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Myspace Layouts
Listening to Trip Atoms music is like 1.21 gigawatts of pure power shooting through your central nervous system. Like a squadron of suburban police officers in pursuit of a van full of hippies, Trip Atoms music will slam you against the wall, frisk you, and arrest your ears with no warrant or probable cause. Mike Walker's guitar riffs will bleed through your ceiling, soak into the drywall, and run through your floor base with the intensity of 101 un-neutered Dalmatians until the sound breaches your parent's room and your mom will say "turn that racket up!". Hari's bass lines will pound on your door like 1,000 commission-only salesmen until you are forced to let them in, leaving you feeling helpless to the amplifier, and inadequate against the sound. Meanwhile, that same sound will travel up the stairs and through your sister's braces, finally making a left at the end of the hall where it will find your mom and she will scream "turn that racket up!" Mike Adam's drums will beat down your chimney as if it were Santa Claus on steroids, and he's bringing you gifts of uniquely original sounds. Then they will turn the cold water on and flush the toilet while you are in the shower, scalding you with insane bass drum, snare, and cymbal action. Somehow, they will find your mom, and she will plead with you to "turn that racket up!". Finally, Henry's melodic vocals will pierce your nipples while performing a tonsillectomy with no anesthesia. Just when you think you are recovering, his words will assault your sensibilities, leaving you begging incoherently for more. Once again, your mom is involved.
